Quidditch, Among Other Things
by Keeper of the Rainbow
Summary: Disclaimer: All Characters Belong to J.K. Rowling. This is a fiction of random thoughts floating through the head of Oliver Wood.
1. Default Chapter

  
Katie and I are best friends. And that's all.   
  
I can tell you her birthday, birthplace, favorite color, middle name, how old all her siblings are, her parents first names, favorite food, and who her crush is.   
  
I like to think that she knows all that about me, too. Except for the crush part. She thinks that I have a thing for Hannah Holst. Not true.   
  
Not anymore at least. Hannah is a very pretty girl, but she's just not my type. She wouldn't be willing to listen to me babble on about Quidditch.  
  
Katie would listen to me go on and on. That's why she's my best friend. She likes Roger Davies. I would hope that she wouldn't go on about Quidditch to him. Not because I am jealous, or anything. Because he is smart enough to use our plays against us, and that would be bad.  
  
If she liked anyone else, that would be fine. OK, maybe not anyone that plays Quidditch for another team. No Cedric Diggory or his Hufflepuffs and definitly not Marcus Flint or his Slytherin comrads. But here she is, hanging out with Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain.  
  
"Katie, what do you talk about with him?" I ask in the common room with Katie.  
  
"Stuff," she says, not looking up.  
  
"Quidditch?"  
  
"Well, sometimes-"  
  
"Katie!" I shriek.  
  
"Wait, wait! But I would NEVER go against the Oliver Wood code of honor with him. I promise," she says, assuringly.  
  
"I'm going to believe you. What do you say about Quidditch?" I ask, sternly.  
  
She groans and rolls her brown eyes. "We talk about professional Quidditch, Oliver. I am not about to tell Rodge all our plays."  
  
I grimace at her. "Rodge? What?"  
  
She blushes and looks away. "That's what I call him."  
  
I chuckled. "That's sick making, Katie."  
  
She takes a throw cushion and throws it at me. "I KNEW you were going to make fun of me. You're such a prat!"  
  
"Rodge! Rodge Rodge!" I say standing up and laughing.  
  
"What do you call Hannah?!" she asked from the couch.  
  
"Her name. Hannah, and there's nothing funny sounding there."  
  
"Gosh, your no fun, Oliver," she pouts.  
  
"I know. But that's what Rodge is for, right? What do you like about him?" I ask, sitting down again.  
  
"First off, he's gorgeous, he plays Quidditch, he's smart, he's funny, he's considerate, he's polite, thoughtful...did I mention gorgeous?" She lists of on her fingers. Then she sighs heavily. "He's great."  
  
I shrug, nodding. "If you say so."  
  
Then she sits up straight and fast. "Oh but I do say so. You just don't like him because he's a rival of yours-"  
  
"So? I have respect for him."  
  
"Well fine, but you just don't see him...feel the way I do about him..."  
  
I chuckle, "It's a good thing, too. Then we'd be competing for the same guy."  
  
She scoffs at me, "I hope you are joking."  
  
"Duh, Katie. I'm not gay (not that there is anything wrong with it). You ought to know that."  
  
"I do know that. So, have you spoken to Hannah yet?" she asks reclining against the arm on the couch.  
  
I did. I said "Hello, Hannah." She said "hi." She didn't even seem happy to see me. Maybe she's just shy. I'm not sure, but at this point I'm just trying to be friendly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, how did it go?" Katie pried.  
  
"Fine," I said curtly.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"She's not interested Katie. I got a 'hi' out of her. That was it," I said.  
  
"But that's so cheap! She could have at least said 'Hi, Oliver,' I mean really. Why do you like such prissy girls?"  
  
I grimaced. "Prissy girls?"  
  
"Nevermind, I've actually told Rodge...Roger...that I was going to meet him in Greenhouse 3."  
  
"To do what?"  
  
"So I can tell him all of our Quidditch plays," she taunted.  
  
"Katie, really!"  
  
"I'm off now," she said standing up.  
  
"He'll have you back before nightfall, I trust?"  
  
"Yes, Mum. Bye, Mum. Later, Mum," she said backing toward the portrait.  
  
"Just go already!" I told her.  
  
Girls. I will never understand them.   
  
Things were considerably quieter after Katie left the common room. I got bored extremely quickly, Ancient Runes just weren't their usual fun, interesting, enrapturing selves today. I closed my book when it started talking about Alchemy. I'm never going to be able to change anything into gold, so who cares? Isn't that what Transfiguration is for?  
  
Magic. I will never understand it.  
  
I'm just trying to get through one more year of school. Well, if you want to be exact about it, about a year and quarter. I'm a 6th year now, with a case of seventh year-itis.  
  
I am beyond determined to pass all of my classes. NEWTs, finals and getting OWLS, because I don't want to have to spend one more year here that I have too.  
  
Apparently, Marcus Flint does not think the way I do. If he even thinks at all. Ever. Romour has it that he's going to have to be a "super seventh year," it's the nice way of saying "eigth year." Ok, so maybe his team has the best racing broom available for all of his players. But Granger's right, Gryffindor is pure talent.  
  
At least I think so. Or hope so. The Weasleys have being Beaters beat. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia have being Chasers chased down. Harry has being a Seeker, sought, and I have being a Keeper kept.  
  
What do you think I think about in my spare time? Girls? Ha, ha. Quidditch, of course. I can't even count the amount of points I have lost for Gryffindor on the account of my obsession with Quidditch.  
  
But I'm normal. Everyone has an obsession with something at one point. Katie's obsession is Roger Davies. His obsession is...well, I wouldn't know. I've never really spoken to him. He's a fifth year, like Katie.  
  
Ravenclaw. No wonder. Katie likes a guy with a brain. We have established this many times, through all of her little crushes.  
  
It's actually funny to watch her turn all giggly about a guy. Whenever we have contests to see who can make who laugh first, I always win. I can just say "Roger..." as if I am talking to a baby and Katie laughs so hard she squeaks.   
  
Like a rubber duck. What is the function of a rubber duck? And why does Mr. Weasley collect plugs?   
  
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like had I been a muggle. Maybe I would know what big words like "pariah" meant. We don't have English classes here.  
  
There is no music department, and no drama department. No art department either. That's just heinous. I hope I am using that word correctly. But probably not.  
  
I leave the common room, leaving my books on a coffee table and head to the library. Did you know that we have a whole room devoted to being quiet and working? When I look around the Annex, almost everyone here is from Ravenclaw. Almost. There is Granger again. What a funny little girl.  
  
That's wierd. There are two people in one of the study carols. Percy, what a liar. He said he was doing important prefect business. I wasn't aware that one of the duties included flirting with Ravenclaw prefects.  
  
But you never know about those Weasleys. Plugs, honestly. Bill is alright, with his peirced ears and long hair. What a crazy Brit. I am holding a grudge against Charlie Weasley, though. Talent at Quidditch like that! He could play for England! But no, he decided to go chase down dragons.  
  
Fred and George are well...Fred and George. Ron is Harry Potters right hand man. Living a hero's life through his best buddy. It's almost sad really.  
  
And then there is little Ginny. I haven't figured anything out about her yet. She used to be a cheerful, outspoken child. But lately she's been quiet and emotional. If i noticed, something must be up.   
  
Nothing for me in the Annex. So I leave, and run into Professor Lockhart. He's giving me a lecture about fame and what to do with it.  
  
"I see great things in you Mr. Wood. Fame, Fortune, Stardom. When your living the high life you can look back and say 'Professor Lockhart taught me everything I know," won't you, Oliver. Yes, maybe one day you'll be a famous as me!"  
  
Erg. Fame, Stardom. Just let me graduate first. Maybe then, and only then will I ever be famous. "Yes, Professor. I'm going to get a head start on that right now!" I say enthusiastically and jog away.  
  
"Impressive! Not wasting any time!" I hear behind me.   
  
I am so glad that Katie doesn't have a thing for Lockhart. Can you imagine if she did? But, fortunately for me, Katie knows that brain cells don't come in bottle of hair gel.  
  
I've got more in my pinky than he has in his head, if that's how the saying goes. And I do not believe anything he wrote in "Travels with Trolls." It's a worthless book. Katie rips out a page from it every school day. She's using it as a calendar. She's got the same amount of pages in it as there are days left until our Seventh year graduation.  
  
She actually was that pitifully bored one day and started chucking pages into the fire in the common room. She said she was playing basketball, whatever that is.  
  
But Katie doesn't have time to do interesting projects like that anymore. She has a potential boyfriend, who she will be giving all of her attention to.   
  
A smart Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. If she slips up and tells him our plays, it'll hurt us in the end. All because she wanted him to like her.  
  
Girls. I'll never understand them.


	2. The Verb: to Roger

  
Katie is a laugh. Funny girl. I am listening to her go on about Davies again. She must have forgotten that I've got a naturally perverted mind. You see, I will associate almost anything to a slang meaning.   
  
Take "Roger" for instance. Ha, I'm laughing to myself just thinking about it. Roger is a euphemism for...well, think about it (with a dirty mind).   
  
I am smirking like an idiot every time she says the name. "Blimey, what's so funny?"  
  
Now, it's even funnier how she's oblivious to this. "Nothing, Katie."  
  
She gave me a suspicious look. "Doesn't look like nothing. What. Have I got something on my face?" she asked, running a hand over her cheek.  
  
"No," I said. Roger. Haha.  
  
"You flying monkey, don't laugh at me!" she said defensively.  
  
This was too funny. "I'm laughing at something else," I said, trying to keep a straight face. It wasn't working.  
  
"You are really making me mad now. I was trying to talk to you. God, Oliver sometimes I think you've really cracked up!"  
  
"Who is to say I haven't?"  
  
"Well you aren't in Azkaban yet," she said.  
  
"They'd send me to St. Mungo's, not Azkaban, oh smart one," I said. "That way I could get treatment."  
  
"Whatever, that's beside the point," she said grimacing.  
  
"Then what is the point?" I asked.  
  
"Nothing, Nowt, Nill, Nevermind, I've lost my train of thought," she sighed.  
  
"Does it feel like your IQ is dropping?" I asked lightly.  
  
"Like an elevator..."  
  
"Whatever that is," I shrugged.   
  
"Wait, what? Stop bothering me! Go find Hannah!"  
  
"Why would I wanna do that?"  
  
"Because you have a fancy for her, remember?" she said, acidly. "Or you forgot."  
  
Wow, a witch pmsing... "No, I don't, actually."  
  
"You said you did," she retorted.  
  
"I say a lot of things, don't I?"  
  
"Stop talking, you're confusing me."  
  
"Aww, poor Katie," I said.  
  
"Do you enjoy tormenting me?" she asked.  
  
"Well, sure I do," I conceded. I would torment my younger sister, but she hasn't gotten to Hogwarts yet. Katie was the next best thing.  
  
"Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?" she asked, bothered.  
  
Maybe I shouldn't torment her so much. I hear that I do enough of that on the Quidditch field. "Fine," I said. "Go on, then."  
  
"Fine," she said smartly. She was about to say something then stopped. "Err...what was I talking about?"  
  
"Nice one, Katie."  
  
"It's all your fault anyway, Oliver," she said loftily.  
  
She had gotten back from Greenhouse 3, with Roger (Haha).   
  
"Did you discuss our Quidditch plays?" I asked just to make sure.  
  
"No...I did not. I can not and I will not," she said.  
  
"Then what did you do?"  
  
"Talk. Just talked… He knows that I like him, right?"  
  
I gave her stern look, "How am I supposed to know?"  
  
"He hasn't asked me out, yet."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"D'you realize that I haven't even had a boyfriend yet, Oliver?"  
  
"Yes, I know," I said. It was true, she was fifteen and she's never had a boyfriend. Just obsessions. "What's your point?"  
  
"Am I so much of freak that I can't get a boyfriend?" she whined.  
  
"Er...no?" I wasn't quite sure what to say.  
  
"Well, that sounded convincing," she acidly.  
  
"No, there's nothing wrong with you! Why do you care so much?"   
  
She sighed, frustrated. "Because, not everyone is like you, Oliver. Not everyone is worshipped by the opposite sex, like you. I actually have to try!"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You've already had two girlfriends this year! Boyfriends for me? Zero!"  
  
It was true, actually. But I didn't think much of it. Besides, what does Katie want a boyfriend for?  
  
"It's not a competition, Katie."  
  
"I know...I'm just getting tired of not being noticed. I am a person with feelings!" she muttered, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest.  
  
"Then do something about it," I said. I am not an Agony Uncle. I don't do advice.  
  
"Right then… well, I'm going up to bed. Night-night," she yawned and began packing her things up.  
  
"Sleep well," I muttered.  
  
I will never understand them. Girls.  
  
But, really, there is nothing wrong with Katie. She's pretty cute, and if she's good enough to be my best friend, even being a year younger than me, then she's good enough for anyone.  
  
And, she is wicked on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
What's wrong with Davies? Could he be gay? That would explain that much. For crying out loud, Roger. Haha.

Because I have a sick, sick mind I am now going to have to call him Will. Will Davies.  
  
Hey, it works. There's nothing funny about that.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There it is! Random thoughts!


End file.
